still< I want more

I am spoiled. Wasted. Ruined.
Continuously wondering what is the purpose of this one life of mine?
To love God above all.And love your neighbor. As You Love Yourself.
I worry, I’m tainted, and I am lost. How do I love?
I don’t choose it, but my mind cannot let it go.
The thought is present as I wake. Even now I am defeated and lost.

Depression sucks the marrow of my bones, unhurriedly.
I’ve wanted nothing more than to be useful.
Or have I lied to myself, even now.
Have I wanted importance? Recognition. Esteem. Significance.
Dare I admit motherhood was never enough?

And as I struggled with deep-rooted interior, from childhood grief, in ruins.
My soul further decays.

So I pray. And Prayer becomes a mantra, habitual and constant.
Bursting with the ache, the existential whys.

The catastrophe is long over, decades ago.
He’s been dead
another decade as well.
Still, the Destruction stands on top of me. Crushing daily energy,

Still, I want more.
Where is the freedom that comes from all this mindfulness?
I fell like I am captive to my past, my psyche ruined.

Melody, I accidentally found this blog. I have been reading, soaking up your words afraid to stop. I found me here. I have not noticed no email address, so I am going to share my story right here, and hope that you will see this. I was abused in everyway possible. Sexual, verbal, emotional etc.. I barely have the energy to type this, because the depression and darkness has swallowed me up and I feel paralyzed. I am 42, and have lived my life believing that I am garbage, worthless, pathetic, a piece of s**t. I was told this every day of my life, in spite of the fact that I was not a trouble maker, I was sensitive, I wanted to be good. My mother allowed these things to happen because she was depressed, and now looking back, she had lots to loose if she took a stand. She married my step-dad, when I was 8. He was an educated, financially responsible man, that believed in hard work.prior to her meeting him, I had been abused by grandfathers, uncles, and a sociopathic grandmother. I was already emotionally fragile, but somehow, I had detached from the traumas, in fact, it is as if the sexual abuses never happened to me. I would always pretend to be asleep.I thought life was going to get better with step-dad. I can tell you, that I lived in a prison, controlled by a man that had no compassion, and a mother that sat by and went along, and eventually she joined in. There was no one ro help, no room for feelings. I was dying inside. I had what I believe to be sime sort of breakdown almost three years ago. I am an accomplished artist(painter), my mental state was so bad, that I had to stop for awhile. I am painting and selling again, maybe because it helps me not to think.I have always suffered with depression, but this, this thing that took me over was was different. I have become fearful,panicked, extremely depressed. I live in the abstract now, with constant thoughts, there is nothing solid. I wasn’t raised in a Christian home, I did however get exposed to God through an aunt that always told me about hell and Gods anger.I thought I got salvation at 21, but it was short lived. I stopped going out and drinking, I tried to be “good.” I could not believe that God loved me no matter what I did, or how good I was. I slipped back into my old drinking and socializing, and then I was totally backslid. I am now 42, and for many years now, I have so desperately wanted God, wanted to be good for him, but I am not good. I know the ugliness in my heart. I know that he alone is good, but I can’t get my heart to believe that he could ever love someone like me. This thinking, coupled with the family traumas has brought me terror, I wonder if I am a reprobate? I have begged his for his forgiveness, I can’t let it go. There is no hope without him. I want to love him, I want so desperately to love him! I loathe myself, and wonder if I will ever escape this mental anguish? I have good days, or rather days when I am numb. I am a married mom to three wonderful kids, and I have to fake life. I pretend I am happy, when inside I am trembling, and fearful. I love them fiercely, and pray that they do not become like me. I am the walking dead, I was killed when I was a little girl. I think back to those days and wonder at what point did I die?? I live with constant guilt, and shame. Shame for how I have used my words to hurt others, and shame that I can’t love like I should. I do not go to church, I do not fit in there. I look at around and see happy joy filled people, and realize that I am unworthy to be around them. I know that deep down in my soul that if I could have God, and believe he loved me, that I would be okay. Please pray for me, I am tired.

dear dear friend, we are sisters here with our lives and experiences though yours is much much worse. i am so grieved for you. but your story echos so much in my experiences. there is so much to say and i have very little time today. first, i am so grateful that you wrote. i believe telling our stories, through words or perhaps in your case art, is essential to healing. i know this feeling of faking your way through life, oh so well! i will write more later as i am off to a new job, which i am making myself do in spite of feeling half dead. i will be praying for you today and will write more later.

Melody,
So good to hear from you.
Today after reading your reply, I laid staring at the wall with hot tears running down my face. Just knowing that someone understands this endless battle I fight brings great comfort! Today I tried to speak encouraging words to myself, hoping to feel normal. I did paint today, and enjoyed some time with a good friend, actually the only person that is still allowed in my life. :) I am isolated, I don’t have to be, but it takes to much energy for me to be good company for anyone, so it is just easier to hide. I was able to believe that somehow God has a plan for my suffering, and honestly Melody, if I knew for certain that I belonged to him, I could handle this. I need him more than my next breath. I can’t help but wonder if my wanting him is selfish? I do not want to go to hell, and he is the only way to avoid it. I am so confused. I believe Christ died for the sins of the world, but did I blow it when I backslid? All of this, and still the issues from my past that have yet to be dealt with! I had a restful evening, time with my family wad/is good, and for that, I am thankful!
Write when you can. I know you are suffering also, so no pressure okay? P.s. if you want to email me privately, I will share my art with you.